Lunch with the Birds
by Kooro
Summary: Neal and Peter take their lunch at the park and decide to feed the birds. Two interesting comparasions are made in the process. Not my best summary but just know that it's a bromance.
1. Chapter 1

**Well, this was supposed to be an addition to "Partners of Paradox," but, as mentioned several times before, it's nearly impossible for me to write something short. So, I've given it its own fic.**

**I depended a lot on Google for info during the creation of this fic. I'll mention what info I got where in case you want to learn what I did or check out what some of the objects in this fic look like.**

**And, I'll mention now that, after reading this fic, you'll have trouble looking at two types of the birds the same way again.**

**._._._._._._.**

Lunch with the Birds

_Chapter 1:_

It was a perfect day for lunch at the park.

Peter Burke leaned back against the park bench with a sigh of content, his elbows propped up on the bench's back.

He gazed at the expansive Bethesda Fountain of Central Park. The sun glistened in the water streaming down from the head of the fountain and made the cascading droplets sparkle like diamonds. The diamonds plunged into a shimmering sea of silver as the water dropped from the tiers of the fountain to finally land in the pond at the bottom.

It was hot enough that children danced along the border of the basin of the fountain, sticking hands and feet into the cool water when their parents weren't looking while others threw wishing coins and small rocks in attempts to sink the decorative flowers blooming in the water.

The elaborate_ Angel of Waters_ atop the fountain watched the child playing below her with a solemn gaze as pigeons alighted upon her wings to rest or saturated their thirst at her feet.

Peter turned his gaze upward to the blue sky. Here, he was protected from the sun: a tree standing behind the bench casting her short animated shadow over him, keeping him cool while in the heat. The sun speckled him in light from where it peeked through the shadows of her extended branches and swaying leaves.

Then he looked to his right to see his partner sitting languidly beside him, hands clasped loosely in his lap as, he too, stared out at the proceedings of the families who had also decided to take a late lunch in the park.

Neal Caffrey sensed he was being watched and turned his head to meet Peter's gaze.

"Hungry?" the agent asked and thumped a hand against the lid of a small cooler between them.

"Staved," the ex-con CI grinned back.

Peter chuckled and opened the cooler. He pulled out a paper bag for himself and then handed another to Neal. "Here. El made you one too."

Neal's eyes brightened as he took the bag from Peter and opened it, gazing curiously into the depths of his packed lunch. Peter opened his own bag and smiled at the familiar sight of a deviled ham sandwich packaged neatly in a plastic bag. He took the sandwich and unwrapped it eagerly.

"Deviled ham, again?" Neal asked with vaguely masked disgust.

"If it ain't broke, don't fix it," Peter countered and took a big bite. "What you'd get?" he asked, considerately covering his mouth.

Neal smiled excitedly and pulled two small Tupperware bowls out of his bag. He opened the first one and inhaled deeply, releasing his breath with a murmur of pleasure. He lifted a small mound of golden delicacy from the bowl.

"Truffled mac-n-cheese bites," he enthused and took a careful bite, chewing slowly. Finding the food to have no repelling flavor, he popped the rest into his mouth.

Peter had gone still, staring in disbelief at the three remaining morsels in the bowl. He could see the yellow macaroni peeking out from the tanned exterior of bread crumbs. He leaned to the side slightly, trying to smell the same goodness that Neal had but Neal blocked his attempt by reaching his fingers into the bowl for another piece.

Peter looked at his own sandwich which paled in comparison to the catering Neal received from El's improving craftsmanship. The bread suddenly seemed too soggy and the ham limp. Neal smacked his lips in delight and Peter looked back at him, eyes wide and pleading. But the food was gone and Neal was opening the second bowl.

"What's that?" Peter asked in a small voice, lowering his forgotten sandwich.

"El believes in a balanced meal," Neal explained simply. "So, here're my vegetables." He picked up a piece of cucumber that had had its original green interior replaced with an array of colorful vegetables. "Persian cucumber Greek salad cups."

Neal placed the whole piece into his mouth and bit down with a crispy crunch that proved just how fresh the ingredients were. When the first piece had been swallowed, he picked up another and Peter barely had time enough to gawk at the sight of the onions, peppers, and tomatoes before it disappeared into Neal's mouth.

"Cilantro," Neal mused aloud, "nice touch."

Disheartened, Peter looked down at his own lunch in dismay. Yeah, he had vegetables too: a bag of carrots and celery sticks.

"Oh wow," Neal sighed, patting his belly in satisfaction. "El sure has improved in her caterer skills. These were fantastic, though the mac-n-cheese was a little over-cooked. But, I digress."

"So what do you have for a fruit?" Peter asked darkly. "Gotta keep the meal balanced and all. What did she make you? Some sort of fancy tart?"

"No," Neal answered cautiously and with a shade of confusion wrinkling his brow. "An apple." He held out a simple red apple for Peter to see.

Peter looked away with a grumble.

"What's wrong?" Neal asked. "You look a little sore. Losing your taste for deviled ham?"

Peter ignored the ring of hope in Neal's voice. "Nothing's wrong," he replied curtly. "And no." To prove his point, he took a fierce bite out of his sandwich and felt slight satisfaction at the look of dismay on Neal's face.

"So," Neal started, voice light in hopes of easing the tension Peter was displaying. "What did you get?"

"Oh, same as you," Peter answered with unmasked sarcasm. "An apple."

Neal blinked with realization and looked guiltily at his empty bowls. El had clearly established who she believed had the better taste between the two partners. And she had packed Neal a lunch in accordance to his tastes. Well, that and he was her official food tester. Albeit, she had done the same for Peter, she only portrayed just what his tastes were.

Granted, she had taken the time to make Peter's lunch consisting of his favorite sandwich, and he was sure she packed everything with the love for him she exhibited every day. But still, why was Neal the only one to get special treatment?

Peter realized he was sulking, and about something trivial. And worse, he had made Neal feel bad about the lunch he had been given: a lunch he had no control of and had no intention of mocking Peter with.

Peter gazed dejectedly into his bag at his apple and veggies. Then he noticed a bulge beneath his apple. Curious, he fished past it and plucked one last component from his lunch bag.

Fresh chocolate chip brownies.

El certainly did believe in a balanced meal. That included dessert as well.

"Hey, she gave us brownies," Peter announced, his previous mood gone. He looked to Neal with a smile that conveyed some of the apology he was feeling for ruining his partner's lunch with his own trivial jealousy.

But Neal's guilty expression only increased as his eyes widened to take on the impression of a deer caught in the headlights.

"Oh," Peter said in understanding. "She gave _me_ brownies."

Neal looked away quickly and slowly took one last bowl from his bag. Inside were small bite-sized cookies of crumbling golden brown with pieces of chocolate chips and caramelized pecans contrasting darkly against the rest of the cookie.

"What's that?" Peter asked in a voice that said he really didn't want to know the answer.

"Oh nothing," Neal answered with a wave of his hand, "Just SouthernPecan-ChocolateBreadPudding-BitesWith-BourbonCrèmeAnglaise," he continued hurriedly in a lowered voice.

"Oh," was the only thing Peter could say. Neal looked up at him questioningly, as if seeking Peter's approval to eat the cookies El made him. "That's nice," Peter finished. He didn't need to ruin Neal's dessert too. This was Neal's lunch and he had no right to dislike him for it.

Neal looked down at his cookies and then at Peter's brownies.

"Wanna trade?"

Peter looked up at Neal in surprise. The younger man was holding out his bowl of cookies to Peter with an encouraging smile. Peter smiled back. He appreciated Neal's desire to cheer him up. It was nice of him. And somewhat typical at this point in their friendship.

"We can share," Peter said graciously and placed the brownies between them. Neal smiled back in agreement and moved his whatever-they-were-called's next to the cookies.

"You going to finish that?" Neal asked with a mouthful of brownie, pointing to Peter's rejected sandwich that had been returned to the lunch bag.

"Naw," Peter answered, testing one of El's cookies but subtly placing it aside unfinished. It was too sweet for his taste. "Not really hungry anymore."

Neal nodded thoughtfully as he took a bite out of El's cookies, munching merrily; then looked out over the park. His gaze stopped on something and his eyes lit up with a childish sparkle.

"Can we feed it to the birds?" he asked pleadingly.

**._._._._._._.**

**Not the best ending/cliffhanger for this chapter but I had to interject somewhere.**

**So, the things mentioned in this fic that I researched:**

**The Bethesda Fountain in Central Park: this majestic fountain was first shown to us in the second episode of the first season, "Threads," the place where Peter traded the dress for the girl with a bomb in her belt. Wikipedia can tell you about this fountain and Google Images can show you some pretty fantastic photos that focus on how elaborate this beautiful fountain is, especially the Angel of Waters, the angel on top.**

**The food El made and Neal ate: I found these delectable dishes by searching for "catering in New York" in Google to find high class foods to fit the standards of taste set by Neal. I came upon the Flatiron Kitchen catering company in New York. On their website, you can look under the "photos" tab to see all the food they provide. The three things Neal eats in this chapter can be found in these photos if you want to see what they look like. **

**To be continued…**

**Hobey-Ho**


	2. Chapter 2

Lunch with the Birds

_Chapter 2:_

"Can we feed it to the birds?" he asked pleadingly.

Peter followed Neal's gaze to a group of birds pecking at the ground where a child had dropped a few of his chips. Before they could finish, the child ran at them, waving his arms and squawking loudly. The birds flittered away fearfully and landed a few feet away from Neal and Peter.

Peter smiled at Neal's juvenility. The younger man was practically jumping in his seat. Who knew the last time Neal was able to feed the birds. Probably back when he was still living with his mother.

Peter frowned at the thought. Neal didn't talk about his mother and kept most of his past shrouded in mystery. Usually, when someone hid their past, it was because they were trying to hide it from themselves. Peter didn't know Neal's past but, from the clues he had picked up, it hadn't been a particularly good one. If feeding the birds reminded Neal of a happier, simper time before his life turned to crime, then who was Peter to deny him that.

"Sure," Peter said gently and tore off a portion of crust from his sandwich and handed it to Neal. The ex-con took it excitedly and twisted off a small piece. He threw it towards the birds and, in a flutter of feathers, several sparrows scurried after the small piece. Neal smiled fondly and threw another piece, attracting the attention of several pigeons that came to join the small crowd of sparrows.

Peter chuckled and tore off a piece from the middle of his sandwich. He threw it into the crowd, causing the birds to scatter away from the potential threat and then regrouping at the realization of food. A pigeon pecked at the morsel, shook its head and ignored the deviled ham soaked bread to try its luck at getting one of Neal's crust pieces.

Peter chucked another piece of bread at the bird just to annoy it as Neal laughed beside him. Smiling despite the rejection, Peter pulled the crust from his sandwich and tossed the bare middle back into his bag. He handed Neal another strip of crust and then the two tossed bread at the birds.

The pigeons sauntered through the group of smaller birds and muscled their way to the bread. The sparrows scurried around the bigger birds collecting overlooked crumbs and darting towards the larger pieces to share in their smaller groups.

Then there was a flash of black wings and two crows alighted outside the group. The larger birds cawed loudly, scaring the smaller sparrows away. The crows ambled into the crowd, pushing the pigeons aside to get the bread. The pigeons grouped together against the more aggressive birds but refused to leave, though didn't try to snatch bread away from the crows.

Neal frowned at the avian bullies.

"Do you have any gum?" he asked suddenly.

Peter glanced at him in surprise and then confusion. "Yeah," he said instead of asking his own question of "Why?".

He pulled a packet out of his pocket and offered a piece to Neal. His partner took the mint-flavored gum and tore its shiny wrapping away. Dropping the piece of gum into the empty cookie bowl – against Peter's protest – Neal waved the silver wrapping in the sunlight, making it sparkle. The crows instantly focused on the shiny treasure. Neal carefully folded the wrapper and, after flaunting it at the crows once more, threw it behind him towards the tree.

Seeing that their treasure was free, the two crows hopped after it, making sure to keep a wide birth from the bench inhabited by humans. Their treasure had alighted upon one of the tree's exposed roots and one of the crows dived towards it.

Before the crow could reach its prize, a gray blur shot out from the branches above and careened towards it. At the last second, the assailing bird opened its wings and pulled up, scratching at the crow with its talons as it passed. The crow squawked in surprise and barely dodged the bird's second assault.

The mockingbird chirped angrily at the threat and dived again at the crow. The crow quickly scooped up the wrapper and then flew away. The mockingbird circled the tree once and then shot back up into the leaves.

Peter and Neal, having seen the whole exchange, exchanged a glance and then laughed at the defeat of the formidable crow by the smaller mockingbird.

"There must be a nest up there," Neal mused as he tossed the last of the bread to the birds.

"Good thing we're over here or that could have been us," Peter added.

The birds, seeing their meal ticket had expired, dispersed in search of a forgotten bag of chips or the remains of a hot dog bun. Neal and Peter, undisturbed, each turned to their own thoughts.

Then, a thought struck Peter and he turned his lopsided grin to Neal.

"You know what?" he asked, a chuckle stifled in his voice. "You remind me of lot of that crow."

Neal shot Peter a looked of appall. "What?"

"Yeah. In fact, if you _were_ a bird, you'd definitely be a crow."

"You just compared me to the bully of birds," Neal bristled with chagrin. "I don't appreciate that."

"Just, hear me out," Peter said with a "calm down" motion of his hands. "A crow likes shiny things. You like shiny things."

"Is that your premise? Is that the only reason you think I'm like a crow?"

"No." Peter's smile softened.

"You're like a crow because you're resourceful and inventive. They're smart. If they want something, they can come up with some pretty elaborate plans to get it. And they're pretty determined. Did you see the way that crow still got the wrapper even with the mockingbird attacking it?"

Neal settled as his eyes searched Peter's. Then he flashed his signature smile. "Am I sensing a compliment?"

Peter smirked back but didn't protest.

"Anything else?" Neal asked expectantly, liking the way the conversation had gone.

"Well, you know how a flock of crows will join to chase away a larger bird like a hawk?"

"Yeah," Neal answered timidly.

"Well, imagine that hawk is Larssen," Peter offered and, judging by the way Neal was looking at him, he had. "You joined up with all of your other conmen and worked together to corner Lawson into getting the alias we needed to bust him. Like I said, resourceful."

"I guess I can see that," Neal nodded approvingly. "That and I look good in black."

Peter chuckled and it was quiet for a moment as the two watched the sauntering crow that so well represented Neal.

"So," Peter's grin was back, "what bird do you think I am?"

**._._._._._._.**

**I was looking at a crow who was hopping around with something shiny in its beak and then I remembered seeing a video of a crow using a piece of string to get a piece of food. Those guys are smart. So I made the connection to Neal. Crows just saunter around with their chests all puffed up proudly and they're always so sleek and cool with their smooth black feathers. And they like shiny things. Totally Neal.**

**No Google searches in this chapter. **

**So, next chapter will most likely be the last and explain what bird Peter would be. I'm glad you're liking it so far.**

**Hobey-Ho**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to all my readers.**

**._._._._._._.**

Lunch with the Birds

_Chapter 3:_

"So," Peter's grin was back, "what bird do you think I am?"

Neal looked at Peter, examining him thoughtfully. Peter waited as Neal then scanned the park in search of Peter's bird. Peter could tell a decision had been made when Neal looked back at him, a sly and somewhat mischievous smile pulling at his lips.

"A mockingbird," Neal announced, jabbing a thumb to the tree behind them.

"What?" Peter asked, stunned.

Neal nodded once in affirmation. "Yep. A mockingbird. Definitely."

"How do you figure that?" Peter asked in exasperation. "I thought I was more like an eagle or some other symbol of a harbinger of justice."

Neal chuckled with a shake of his head. "Let me explain."

Peter crossed his arms, well, crossly.

"Like the common mockingbird, you are extremely protective of your family."

Peter deflated.

"A mockingbird is willing to do whatever it can to protect its nest, even attack birds larger and stronger than itself, like a hawk. They're fearless." Though it wasn't said aloud, an indicated "Like you" seemed to finish Neal's statement.

Neal smiled warmly at Peter. "Remember when you were suspended for punching Fowler?" Neal asked.

Peter nodded.

"And why did you do that?"

"Because he was hassling Elizabeth," Peter answered, taking in his own words.

"And whenever I get myself into trouble, you always chase the bad guy away." Neal grinned proudly. "You protect. That's why you're a mockingbird."

Peter nodded with a smile as he made the connections to find they were, indeed, true. He turned his smile to Neal.

"That and you have no sense of fashion. Such uniform colors," Neal added with a coy smirk and a dismissive wave of his hand towards the fashion-less bird behind him.

"I see you failed to mention the fact that that mockingbird chased away the crow." Peter countered, his grin turned taunting.

"I also left out the part about being literally mocking," Neal replied deftly, his own grin impish.

Peter arched a brow in amusement. "Touché," he amended.

As Neal laughed, Peter checked his watch. The tree's shadow had grown over the two sitting on the bench, the dancing branches reaching towards the fountain. The sun was slowly inching out of its place in the sky and sinking back towards the earth. It had been a late lunch and was thus fated to be short.

"All right," Peter sighed, "time to get back to work."

Neal nodded his grudging consent and the two partners stood together. Peter placed his uneaten lunch back into the cooler along with the empty Tupperware bowls as Neal crumbled up his paper bag and expertly launched it through the air and into a nearby trashcan.

"Give El, my thanks," Neal said, nodding pointedly at the cooler.

"Oh, you can tell her yourself," Peter said. "You're coming to dinner. She's making something she wants you and your high standard of taste to test."

"Do you know what it is?"

"Something called a… chicken corkuvain"

"_Coq au vin_?"

"That's it."

"Wow, she's making some high class stuff."

"Wait, what is it?"

"Nope. I'm guessing that, since she didn't tell you, it's a surprise."

"Tell me what it is or I withhold the invitation."

"There you go, mocking again."

"Mocking? I wasn't mocking. How was that mocking?"

"I was referring to the verb. Mocking: to prevent something."

"You want me to be mocking? Fine." Peter deepened his voice to a whisper. "I'm Neal Caffrey and I like to wear funny hats and expensive shoes and hang out with a bald guy."

His imitation done, Peter looked at Neal with smug triumph. But Neal wasn't looking at him. In fact, his attention was focused entirely on something else.

"Hey," Peter interjected, hurt creeping into the tone. "Neal, I'm talking to you."

"What?" Neal asked incredulously as he turned to face Peter. "Sorry, I was distracted by something shiny."

A smile tugged at Peter's lips but he held it back. "Like what?" he challenged. "I don't see anything shiny over there."

"Like this," Neal stated with the smile of a card player who had a royal flush behind his bluff. With that, he pulled his hand out of his pocket to reveal Peter's badge.

"How did you-" Peter stammered as he patted his pockets.

"Resourceful remember?" Neal shrugged and tossed the badge back. Peter quickly pocketed it but was unable to suppress his smile this time.

"All right, Clyde, let's just get back to work."

"Does that make you Bonnie?"

"No more talking."

Neal grinned and rapped Peter on the arm. And he abided by Peter's rule. For a little while.

"So what kind of bird do you think Mozzie is?"

"A penguin."

"A penguin? Really?"

"What? He kind of waddles around, doesn't he? And a penguin can't fly. It's an odd bird. He's an odd guy."

"Don't let him hear you say that."

"I think he'd take it as a compliment."

"Hmm. You may be right."

"What about Diana?"

As the two voices and laughter died away, a few birds ventured closer to the now empty bench in search of the forgotten crumbs that littered the ground. Even the crow – its silvery treasure safely hidden away – was drawn back in hopes of a snack. It made a beeline towards the bench, cautious of the potential threat looming in the tree.

As if on cue, the mockingbird fluttered onto the bench to inspect the cookie that had been deposited on the bench by Peter. The crow paused, unsure of how the mockingbird would react to its presence and not wanting to be pecked at. But the mockingbird merely tilted its head to size up the crow and then looked away again, accepting the presence of the crow as just another scavenger like itself rather than a danger to its nest.

Assured, the crow ambled closer amid the sparrows and pigeons and cleared the ground of crumbs as the mockingbird tested the cookie left on the bench. The mockingbird pecked out a bite, shook its head, and hopped up onto the back of the bench. It stared disdainfully at the discarded cookie. Too sweet.

It flapped its wings and returned to the branches of the tree as the crow jovially ate what the mockingbird's standard of taste disapproved of.

**._._._._._._.**

**THE END**

**I looked it up, and a mockingbird is indigenous to New York, but not the Eastern Mockingbird species. Those are black with a white belly and have a tuff of fluff for a crown. **

**I, and probably you too, always see mockingbirds swooping down to fend off crows. Those guys are fearless. So, I made the connection to Peter. I think it's fitting. **

**I can totally picture Mozzie as a penguin. Diana and Jones? I'm not so sure. Crane, duck, or some kind of symbiotic bird. Meh. **

**So, thank you all for reading and commenting and faving and all that good stuff. Glad you enjoyed it. **

**Hobey-Ho**


End file.
